The Game

It’s just a silly little game;

Like chess.

We’ll move, then they’ll move.

We’ll dance in circles until one of us gets too dizzy to continue.

The last pawn will eventually fall.

Whoever falls will be the loser;


The winner will conquer;

Complete rule over the loser.



But checkmate doesn't mean it's over.

Far from it.

There will be a second coming.

They will rise above the ashes;

Take back what is rightfully theirs.



That's all humans seem to know.

It truly is a circle;

The cycle of life that is.

History really does repeat itself.

Not in the same exact way but close enough.

At the the end of a war, who's the real winner?

What do they have to show for it?

What's left?

What can they actually claim?



Freedom is life's great lie.

No one is truly free;

And if one attempts to be;

they’ll be punished.

True freedom is only accessible in death.



True peace is only achieved if humans stop existing.

This poem is about: 
My country
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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